


Shame

by comfy3666



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Drug Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Trans Kurapika
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-27 01:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18294374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/comfy3666/pseuds/comfy3666
Summary: Kurapika sits with his family and reflects on his actions.





	Shame

Kurapika was exhausted. A weight bore into his soul and a perpetual pain troubled his ribs. Holy Chain could help with the rib pain, but it couldn't touch the lead in his bones. 

It was far too easy to get a hold of illicit drugs when you were surrounded by criminals.

Kurapika needed Ritalin. The bitter taste on his tongue, the way it washed the tiredness from his bones and made him new and confident again. If there was Ritalin in his system he could stand tall and continue with his mission. It helped him push aside his fatigue, and if he forgot to eat, if he was overtaken by anxiety at times, if he had once taken too much and had spent the next four hours jittering and throwing up it was a small price to pay. It didn't matter how dependant he grew or how the bags etched under his eyes deepened or how his ribs stood out because he didn't feel so hungry anymore. How could he eat, when the eyes of his brethren were still in the hands of those bastards? 

Oh his worst days, he would reflect upon the eyes he'd recovered so far and wonder. Are you Pairo? Are you my mother, or my father? Did I know you? The Scarlet Eyes stared back at him silently, never answering. Sometimes he'd place his phone next to him, hoping against hope it would ring. Often it did. Often Leorio would leave voicemails, not that he could bear to listen to them. Kurapika was afraid that if he heard his voice, loud and crass and probably filled with worry and care, he'd   
run straight to Leorio, begging for his arms around him, to feel his lips pressed into his hair again, to lay his head down on his chest and listen to the steady thump of his heart. He wanted to hear the man's voice so desperately he could feel the need on his skin, the loneliness crawling along his arms. 

He sat now in the makeshift chapel, unscented candles burning low, the clock on his phone next to him ticking over to 3am.

Some nights he would fall asleep here on the cold stone floor, the glow of his family around him bringing a false comfort. On those nights he imagined he would never wake up and he'd lie here with his family forever. Once he'd recovered all the eyes. Once he'd done his duty he could take all of the pills in his stash, wash it down with tequila and hopefully induce a heart attack. Maybe the stress would make his eyes glow, too. 

He ran his hands through his hair, tugging past knots and tangles. He had to brush it sometime. When he found the time. His ribs shifted painfully under the pressure of his binder. He should take it off for a breather. When he found the time. 

Shame stopped him from looking in the mirror and kept him away from anything that could be considered beneficial to him. He hadn't earned the right to eat breakfast. If he didn't sleep, it was penance for using drug money to fund his sacred mission. 

Headaches were his constant companion, thrumming hammer hits against the inside of his skull, burning behind his eyes. It was only right that he work through them, gritting his teeth through the pain. 

Even the solace he sought amongst his brethren, in that cold, stone, room, was stained by guilt. Survivor's guilt. Guilt for ignoring his friends. Guilt for the crimes he'd committed in his search, even if the hurt he inflicted was justice. Guilt over Neon's death. Even though he had found her irresponsible and flighty, she hadn't deserved to die so painfully. 

Would his parents be ashamed? Would Pairo recognise his childhood friend if they spoke again? 

The cold of the stone he lay on seeped into his bones, but he made no movement to warm himself up. He couldn't sleep when his family were staring at him, empty eyes watching him. He wished they held any emotion, anger, happiness, a kind glance, a distant or distracted look. He wouldn't mind if they glared at him with hatred. Anything would be better than the empty stares floating in plastic. Anything. 

His phone buzzed in his hand, the screen glowing. Leorio. The man was never consistent. His calls were never at the same time. He wondered what connected them… coffee breaks at work or between study? Where did he fall in Leorio's routine? before “eat breakfast” or after “get dressed for work”? How often did Kurapika cross his mind? Did he think of him before he slept at night?

When Kurapika thought about Leorio, the floor wasn’t so cold anymore. He closed his eyes and let the phone ring.

**Author's Note:**

> Bind safely! If your ribs hurt, take a break! This is the first thing I've posted in years, please be kind! A fair amount of this, like how Neon died and Pika's drug use, is ofc not canon. Thanks for reading.


End file.
